High Jenks

High Jenks
indeed since rather a lot of this particular trail reversed the
mammoth, 20-mile race across the lofty hills above Goring the day
before which Anorak and TrainSpotter had been daft enough to take
part in. This explained their unusually lacklustre approach to
today’s Hash and an early departure for a warm footbath and a
restorative. The rest of us had taken no part in such foolishness and
had no idea of the heights to be scaled ere the day was out. We set
forth with a light heart even though Jenks had intimated that less
than a bag of flour had been used to mark a lengthy trail.

Unusually,
we set out over the river bridge towards Streatley. Or rather,
everybody but Spot and I did since we had stupidly decided to check
out the trail. It was a fair race to catch up with the Pack again.
The bridge spans a beautiful part of the languid river on the
upstream which suddenly races underneath to tumble eagerly in fresh
cascades over the weir on the other side. OldDog was also tumbling
eagerly up the hill away from the river doing the FRBs job with great
enthusiasm. The thing she forgot was that 80% of the FRBs time is
spent backtracking down False trails. And so it was here. She went
from bounding, happy, carefree puppy to foot-dragging, mournful,
sad-eyed bloodhound as soon as the ‘F’ appeared. I
consoled her with a Bonio and hurried on.

We trolled
across a little wooden raised walkway on our way to the riverside and
Lemming did his impression of ‘Riverdance’ in the flooded
area in front of us, splashing all and sundry until Finger and
TrainSpotter chased, but failed to catch, the elfin creature. I swear
Lemming hit 30 mph with leopard-like swerves as he outpaced his
pursuers. The similarity to such a fine creature ends with Lemming’s
turn of speed since a) the leopard has hair, and b) the only spots
Lemming has are on his a*se.

Cheating attempts a lone ascent of
the South Col

We began to climb. We got to a crossroads where
Anorak decided that walking was far better than running and decided
to let Motox, Spot and Zebedee check it out. Which they did, finding
a Bar some way along the road. Motox got a sudden attack of
altitude-related flour blindness and stumbled blindly across the Bar
(clever fellow) while the rest of us began to stagger up the first of
today’s grassy mountains. Iceman actually found the meagre
trail (laid yesterday) but only by calling up two AWACS and a
Blackbird. TrainSpotter, Baldrick and I short-cutted unashamedly,
coming to rest by the spare oxygen atop the hill by the Regroup.
Looking around Glittertits and I were struck by the volume of
cloud/mist in the valleys below us. Prayer flags fluttered below in
the stiffening breeze. A dishevelled yak wandered past in a
mountain-sickness daze – or was it Spex? Same hairstyle
certainly. I staggered, deep in oxygen debt, over to an exhausted
SlackBladder. “Are you Tensing?” I asked hazily. “No.”
He replied. “It’s these new shorts.” (Contrived, I
know, but I found it funny.) Jenks’ snow goggles glinted as he
flung out an ice-rimed arm to indicate the route out through a gate
and further confirmation of our sorry state was shown by the failure
of those two mental giants Zebedee and Lemming to figure out how to
open it. I resolved not to get roped to either of them and carried
on. Jenks rather unkindly pointed Anorak, TrainSpotter and our two
Oxford visitors down the hill from a Check and they fell for it,
disappearing never to be seen again. “Some people are so
gullible!” Chortled the Rev. Jenks.

Motox finally reappeared to join Iceman and Baldrick and
the rest of us as we trotted blithely down a woodland path towards a
rather nasty three way Check. Motox rather ingenuously took the
downhill track while BGB and I took the uphill. I believe Spot and
Foghorn went straight on. Mind you, everyone except Motox met up
again in the wood where Spot had found an ‘F’ after five
blobs! A fairly typical example of the Jenksian school of Hash trail
laying. It turned out to be the Short Cut so we all had to trek back
uphill in order to traipse down a different massive hill littered
with flint rocks and dusty earth. Zebedee had already reached the
Check at the bottom and gone the wrong way (how many times did he do
that today?) so Greg, SlackBladder and I chatted pleasantly awhile
Until ShutupWally arrived, insisting on introducing Greg despite the
fact that we had already met. We didn’t hang around for long.

Of course, in Hashing terms what comes down has to go up
and the next Check took Foghorn and Baldrick on another journey high
into oxygen-free territory up the mother of all hills. By the time
they reached the top Foghorn looked like Paula Radcliffe at the
Olympics – but with a beard – and Baldrick looked like
his namesake would after a particularly hard night on the turnip ale.
Looking back from the summit a line of Hashers could be seen slowly
struggling and swearing up the virtually flour-free track towards a
smiling Kitten who was standing savouring his handiwork. And a little
further on was Jenks who obviously felt sorry for us since he waved
us on over a False rather than insisting we took the loop. What a
fine chap!

Luckily for us this was our last uphill sojourn for the
day and we began to descend rapidly, almost too rapidly down a
makeshift series of earth steps designed to trip anyone who wasn’t
concentrating hard. But we all made the road safely and Baldrick
found the damp track through the trees that led off it down across an
‘F’ on the Out trail by the bridge. A swift sprint across
past PissQuick and Spex saw us to the pub where, guess what, Zebedee
was trotting towards us and away from the car park! It’s got to
be an age thing. And talking of aberrant behaviour, there in the car
park was Foghorn, laying down next to his car to get a bit of rest
when Miranda, of all people, suddenly leapt astride him and went for
the winning post like Frankie Dettori aboard Racing Certainty in the
2 o’clock at Cheltenham. Luckily for him she didn’t have
a whip. And I thought she was such a refined lady!

So it was an arduous trail for the Long runners and not
that easy for the Shorts – even those who ran over a Bar –
but the views by the river and on the hills were stunning and it was
nice not to go on the ‘usual’ trail. Thanks Jenks and
Kitten. On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

RA Glittertits presented
the following :-

Name

Reason

Style points

Motox

Running through a Bar
and a False!

He ran through his
pint with equal speed

Miranda

Rampant Foghorn
shagging

Nicely sucked
half-pint

SlackBladder

Failing to control
his OldDog

Excellent start with only minor spillage

Kitten and Squirrel

Hare and stand-in
Hare (Jenks having bu**ered off)

Kitten almost beat
Squirrel – but not quite

Potty

Awarded the BH3
sheep. Glittertits said he may as well carry it as he isn’t
running very fast at the moment. A little harsh… but true.

Up and Coming

Run Number

Date

Grid Reference

Venue

Hares

1428

03/04/05

795678

The Olde Leathern
BottleWokingham(The Hares request you park somewhere other
than at the pub)

SlowsuckerMatt

1429

11/04/05Monday
19:00

468917

The North
StarSteventon

Caboose (who has just
hit 40 like a runaway train into the buffers)

Grand
Skittles Evening

Saturday April 23rd
at 19:30. Venue is the Civil Service Club, James Lane, Burghfield.
Gridref: 675676. Cost £7.50 to include chicken or scampi and
chips. Drinks are sensibly priced. Skittles winner keeps the BH3
cup for the year! What could be more enticing? For more details call
0118 958 3887.